


Soft As Silk

by carnivoreghost



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Napping, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivoreghost/pseuds/carnivoreghost
Summary: He motioned towards the easel and stool set in front of him. “I was hoping to use you as a model.”“Me?” Marianne reflexively took a step back.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund & Ignatz Victor, Marianne von Edmund/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	Soft As Silk

**Author's Note:**

> Marianne please marry _me_
> 
> Unbetaed

Her voice is delicate, like the edges of a flower. “Ignatz? What do you need me for?” Marianne stood with her hands folded in front of her. They were tucked into a quiet corner of the monastery. Though midday, there was a pronounced chill in the spring air.

Ignatz smiled. “I’m glad you came.” He had been afraid she would not. But the withdrawn girl of their school days had grown into a woman. “I’m trying to complete this painting-” He motioned towards the easel and stool set in front of him. “I was hoping to use you as a model.”

“Me?” Marianne reflexively took a step back. Though tired and burdened with feelings she could not speak of, her eyes are sweet and the color of well brewed coffee.

He usually painted the Saints. His devotion and faith came out of his paintbrush as pious as any hymn.

But this was different.

“If that is alright,” Ignatz added quickly.

Marianne did not immediately sit down. She looked from the stool to the canvas as if they would turn into demons and attack her. Then she took her seat. “Which way should I face?”

“That is perfect. Just tilt your chin a bit. Yes! Brilliant!”

He picked up his paintbrush and began. 

Marianne watched him from the corner of her eye, eyebrows knitted together. “Is this..all I should do?”

“Oh yes.,” Ignatz said, brush halting. The smell of oil paints was strong and tickled his nose. 

“I’ve never done anything like this…”

“You’re doing fantastic. Just stay still for now.”

Time never passed properly while he painted. It stuttered and stopped unevenly. The hours spent painting were like a broken clock on Ignatz’s dorm wall. The sun above them waned in the sky and gave away to afternoon. 

He only got so far as the shape of her jaw and the delicate curve of her neck before his stomach growled audibly. 

“Oh my,” Marianne hid a smile behind her hand. “I suppose it is getting later.”

Ignatz sighed and started to pack away his supplies. “You are right. It is about dinnertime.”

She nodded as she got to her feet, stretching sore muscles and smoothing out her skirt. “This was nice.”

He was not sure if she meant it but he’d do anything to see her smile, the expression small but radiant in the afternoon light. “I’m not finished. Could we do this again.”

“Yes,” Marianne did not falter. “Good day, Ignatz.” Then she was gone,strolling off toward the dining hall.

It had to have been dinner time, from the lazy way the sun hung and the golden light.

And from his rumbling stomach.

It was two weeks before they decided to meet with an easel between them again. 

But that did not stop him from pulling her out of her dorm bright and early that same morning to watch the Goddess paint the heavens with a skilled hand. 

She was bleary-eyed, dressed in a nightgown with a cloak over it. Her hair was pinned up but had fallen either from sleep or carelessness. “Ignatz? Is something wrong?”

“Close your eyes,” Ignatz took her hand in his.

After a moment, Marianne obliged, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be led.

This time he did not go to their secluded place in the monastery. Instead he led her to the edge of the pond. The water was still, glasslike in it’s clarity. He had set out a blanket on the stones overlooking the water. 

Her hand was small in his. She was a healer so none of the tell tale marks of sword handles or bowstrings stood out. Her fingers were so much different than his own, thin and long. Pianist fingers. 

The pinks and oranges were breathtaking to watch move across the sky. “Open your eyes.”

Marianne did, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Here. Please sit.” With his free hand, Ignatz motioned towards the blanket. 

“Thank you,” Marianne ducked her head gratefully and took her place on the quilt. 

They were silent for a long time. Watching in awe, Ignatz was keenly aware of her next to him and the fact her still held her hand. He traced a line over her knuckles with his thumb. She did not pull away. 

_Thank the Goddess._

The thumping in his chest slowed into a content beat. Ignatz settled down, laying on the blanket now. 

_Was this what love feels like?_

The morning sky gave way to the typical cornflower blue. Though he was not sure how much Marianne had seen. She had fallen asleep on the blanket next to him and he had quickly followed suit.

For a while, despite the threat of war and blood that clung like smoke in their choking lung, the pair slept peacefully.

A battle loomed at the end of the month, the planned skirmish just next week.

But Ignatz did not want to think about the shadow of death that hung over them all. 

They were back in their secluded spot at Garreg Mach. The monastery was quiet today. A gloomy cloud seemed to hang over, despite the pleasant weather. 

Marianne sat in front of him. Dark eyebags stood out under her eyes, stark against the porcelain white of her skin. 

Ignatz yawned. Training for the upcoming clash had been tough. The Professor was relentless in their method. His arms and shoulders ached from pulling his bowstring. He had hardly been able to get out of his bed.

“The sunrise was lovely today,” Marianne smiled. 

Despite his exhaustion,he did not regret pulling her from her dorm room that morning. Nor did her mind the nap they had taken together on that blanket, even after the monastery dogs came and licked his face messily. 

He had woken up before her. They were not touching or tangled up in one another’s limbs. Cliches like that rarely happened in real life. Marianne slept, lit up by the merging day with a peaceful frown and her soft hair tousled out from her updo.

_Peaceful._

It was rare her face looked uninhibited. He wanted her to look like that everyday.

“It was. I’m glad you came to see it with me.” The morning sun had looked lovely on the soft planes of Marianne's face, as if touched by an artist’s hand.

“Me too,” she murmured, hiding her smile behind her palm. 

Her hair was tied up but looked like it would be as soft as silk in his fingers. A single loose strand had fallen on the side facing him, tickling her cheek. 

“Here,” Ignatz leaned forward, and tucked the stray hair back behind her ear. 

Marianne froze like that, mouth hidden behind her hand but her eyes wide and peeking over her fingers. 

The heat rushed to Ignatz’s face. He had done it without thinking, exhaustion dampening his ability to stay his hand. “I’m sorry, Marianne. I-” Ignatz trailed off. 

“It’s- it’s alright,” she said, dropping her hand into her lap. “You just surprised me. That’s all.” Though the fact she was avoiding his eyes made his stomach flop. 

“Maybe we should wrap up for today,” Ignatz lowered his brush. 

He was certain as his heart thumped an erratic beat in his chest.. _This is what love feels like._

“Yes…” Marianne trailed off, standing up from her stool. She did not make a move to leave though, training those coffee-colored eyes on him. “Would you like to join me for dinner?” There was something unfaltering her expression. 

He thought of that night in the forests the blue-haired woman stood before an ancient beast. Maybe the beast was not the one of fear under those dark trees, but the girl who bared his Crest. Maybe _she_ was the one with strength of legends passed. 

“I-” Ignatz hesitated for a moment. 

Marianne smiled, the expression slow and sweet like honey. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too,Marianne,” he responded at once. 

Marianne folded her hands in front of her. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re-,” Ignatz cleared his throat, continuing. “I’d be happy to have dinner with you.”

“Wonderful,” Marianne once again did not move. “Seeing the sunrise with you was lovely.”

“I enjoyed it was well.” His hand twitched, remembering how it had held Marianne’s. It had fit so well in his,like it had belonged there. 

“I used to long to not see the sun again,” Marianne murmured, averting her gaze from him.

Ignatz’s mouth went dry. “A world without you would be a Hell.”

Marianne snapped up to look at him, eyes like a deer caught in a trap. “Ignatz.”

He stood up, taking her folded hand in his. “I’m _so_ glad you are here with me, Marianne.”

“I-” She swallowed. “I want to be here now.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “Yes. I-I want to spend every morning with you.”

Ignatz froze, then broke into a smile. “I love you, Marianne.”

“You do?!” She tore one hand from his grip, covering her mouth with it.

“Yes,” he said, the words unwavering and certain. “I do and I will forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning.”

“That sounds-” Marianne dropped her hand from her face, letting it rest on top of his. “Nice. I think I’d like the same.”

“Brilliant.,” Ignatz moved slowly, as if approaching a wild animal and cupped her cheek with one hand. “Can I kiss you?”

“P-Please.”

He leaned in, pressing his mouth over her’s. She squeaked into the kiss, relaxing after a moment. Her body pressed into his. The scent of rose perfume and hay filled his nose. Ignatz held her tighter, one hand on her cheek and the other at her waist. Then he released her. 

The kiss was sweet and short but Marianne was blushing from her neck to her forehead. 

His hand lingered on her cheek, tracing a line with his thumb. “Was that alright?”

“Ye-Yes,” Marianne blinked, dazed expression melting into a smile. 

“Do you want to see the painting?”

She nodded, glancing at the abandoned easel. 

Ignatz slid her hand down her arms to grasp her hand and led her to the canvas. “It is not done. But-”

The basic shapes were there. The oil paints had layered into what was clearly Marianne’s face from the bust upward. She wore her typical blue dress with her hair done up carefully. What stood out was the beginning of an expression, pink lips curved into a small but genuine smile. 

Ignatz floated behind her shoulder, watching her line of sight. “What do you think?”

Marianne drew in a sharp breath, staring at the painting. I-” Finally she turned to face him, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “It is lovely.”


End file.
